Career Day
by unilocular
Summary: When Tim and Tony head to an elementary school for a career day, trouble still manages to find them. Gen. Set early season 3. Rated T for language and violence.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer : If you recognize it, I still don't own it. All characters remain intellectual property of CBS and their creators.**

**Title :** Career Day

**Summary : **When Tim and Tony head to an elementary school to cover career day, trouble manages to find them. Gen. Set early season 3. Rated T for language and violence.

**Author's Note : **_I have been working on this story for a while now. Since I'm working on it as I'm editing my newest casefic, I think it's time to post so I will force myself to actually finish it. This is absolutely a work in progress with no regular update schedule. Once I finish up with my BigBang entry, this will get worked on more regularly. __  
_

_I may take some liberties with police procedure for this story. It's only meant to be fun so if something is inaccurate, I beg your understanding. _

_Review, as always, are appreciated. _

_-oooooooo-ooooooooo-ooooooooo-_

**Tuesday, November 15, 2005 – 7:02am – Elevator – NCIS Headquarters, Washington, DC –**

Holding a no-foam skinny latte, Very Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo waits patiently for the elevator to climb to the fourth floor. As he takes a slow sip, he savors the last few minutes of the morning that still belong to him. He knows once he hits the bullpen Gibbs owns the remainder of his day until he iss released from duty for a few hours' rest…before it all starts over again.

He cocks his eyebrows as the coffee hits his tongue, nodding at the delicate hint of cinnamon. Expertly crafted by his favorite barista, the drink tastes even better than her usual concoctions. He has a sneaking suspicion that it might be partially due to the phone number of the drop-dead gorgeous, new to the neighborhood brunette scribbled on the side of his cup. Grinning wickedly at himself at the polished metal surface of the elevator doors, he can't believe how well his morning is going so far.

When the elevator hits his floor, the doors slide open, sweeping his reflection away. He ducks out, checking his phone on the way to the bullpen. When there are no new calls, his features screw in confusion. While no news from Gibbs is good news, Tony half-expected to hear from the brunette by now…even though it has only been twenty minutes since he called.

He hopes that he hasn't messed up his chance with her by breaking the DiNozzo Golden Rule : wait at least twenty four hours before calling any woman back. Even though he probably should have waited, Tony figures _that_ brunette could be married by tomorrow.

It will just be a matter of time before she calls…any woman who could resist the newest addition to his Zegna collection is just plain crazy.

Heading towards his desk, he grins at the empty bullpen as he ekes out the last few seconds of his morning. He shrugs off his coat, laying it over his chair. Dropping his phone into his desk drawer, he leaves it open just enough to ensure that the cell still has reception.

Just as he powers up his computer, Mossad liaison Ziva David glides into the bullpen. Earbuds buried in her ears, her head bobs in time with whatever pumps through them.

"Good morning, Tony," she shouts as she pulls off her jacket.

"Morning, Zee-vah," he replies, switching on his monitor. When her brow crinkles, he motions to his ears. Laughing, she rolls her eyes and plucks the buds from hers. "Morning, Ziva."

"Good morning, Tony." She studies him for a moment. "You seem to be in a good mood."

Raising his eyebrows, Tony shrugs noncommittally.

New suit. Good coffee. Beautiful brunette on his mind. No Gibbs in sight. A prank planned for Tim later that is better than his usual fare. Is there a better way to start his day?

"You have met a beautiful woman again, yes? What is this one's name?"

Meeting Ziva's gaze, he finishes his latte.

"Kendal. She should be calling just about any minute now." He grins seductively at her. "You know no one can resist the DiNozzo charm."

An evil glint blasts through her eyes as she heads towards him, exaggerating the swing of her hips as she moves. When she slithers behind his desk, she spins his chair around so he faces her. Leaning in close enough that he can smell the sandalwood on her skin, Ziva stares deeply into his eyes. Tony's breath hitches when her body shudders.

"You are correct, I do not know how I have resisted it for so long. Ever since I met you, I have been holding back…"

When she inhales deeply, Tony mimics the motion. Maybe he doesn't need Kendal anymore.

Ziva suddenly pushes his chair away, the peals of laughter following all the way to her desk. By the time she hits the opposite side of the bullpen, her hysterics echo throughout the office.

It isn't like he actually believed her, not in the least…

Just as he regains enough composure to offer a retort, his phone buzzes to life. Since he doesn't recognize the number, he motions towards it with a sly smile.

Probably Kendal returning his call from a different line.

Flipping the phone open, Tony locks eyes with Ziva. She presses her hand to her mouth, obviously trying to stop laughing long enough to hear his conversation.

"Very Special Agent DiNozzo."

_"Tony?"_ The male voice on the other end makes him pause.

He pulls the phone away from his ear, double checking the caller's number. Finally noticing the first three digits are from an NCIS issue cell, he runs his hand over his face as Ziva erupts into another fit of giggles.

_"Tony? You still there?" _

"Yeah, you've got him. Who's this?"

_"Steve Barrows." _

Leaning back in his chair, Tony wonders why the jovial Special-Agent-in-Charge of NCIS' other MCRT would call him. Known as the "anti-Gibbs" to the probationary agents, Steve Barrows has a reputation for fostering professional and personal growth through mutual consideration and support. After all his years on Gibbs' team, Tony still doesn't understand how his boss and Barrows have nearly identical closure rates.

_ "DiNozzo, you still there? Or –" _

"Yeah, Steve, I'm here. What do you need?"

_"Well, I need to ask you a huge favor."_ A deafening sneeze from the receiver makes Tony hold the phone away from his ear. By the time he can hear again, Barrows is halfway through his request. " _– damn flu and my team caught a big case. Can you believe a serial killer's targeting Marines down at Camp Lejeune?"_ There is another sneeze. _"I can't seem to get over this – _"

"Steve…what do you need?" Tony interrupts, finally understanding the rumors to the other agent's garrulousness.

_"Well, I promised my daughter that I'd speak at her school's career day. Unfortunately, I'm halfway to Jacksonville with my team to take over the investigation down there. Third murder in as many days so we need –"_

"So you need me to go to her school and tell her class how great it is to be a federal agent?"

_"More or less…look, Tony, I already called the director. Since your team's on cold cases this week, she approved you and one of your teammates to take care of it for me. Something about how it helps our public image…who knows what the hell she means. Though you might not want to tell Gibbs until you two get back, you know he'll have it out with Madam Director." _Barrows lets out a hearty laugh that dissolves into a round of hacking.

The thought of not telling Gibbs makes Tony screw his features in disgust. No one on the team can even hit the head without the boss knowing.

"Um, Steve, I don't think it's such a good idea."

_"I'll owe you one," _Barrows pleads, desperation evident in his voice.

Slumping back in his chair, Tony avoids Ziva's earnest gaze to study the ceiling tiles instead. While sneaking out on a work day would get him in trouble with Gibbs, he figures having another team leader indebted to him couldn't hurt…especially since he plans to have his own team someday. Someone as influential as Barrows could open a lot of doors for him later.

Plus, it isn't like those cold cases are getting any warmer.

"I think I can take care of that for you. How old's your daughter?"

_"Izzy just turned nine, top of her third grade class."_ Barrows sounds proud as he relays the school's address. "_Thanks again. I really, really do owe you one." _

Grinning wickedly, Tony flips the phone closed.

"So Zee-vah, how do you feel about a career day with third graders?"

Her lips pull into a tight frown. "What kind of work shall we make them perform?"

It takes him a few moments to realize that she is thinking about child labor. Laughing heartily, Tony shakes his head at her confusion.

"Career day, Ziva. Like when parents go and tell their kids' class about how great their job is. Didn't your parents ever go to your school to - "

When he remembers who her parents are, the rest of the thought dies on his tongue. While espionage, political assassinations and Mossad might be appropriate for a classroom back in Tel Aviv, Tony doesn't think it would work in the United States.

"Well, I could always show them my training. I learned how to throw my first knife at seven. Perhaps that would be informative for the class to learn? It would make quite an interesting presentation," she offers, lifting her letter opener from her desk.

As she checks the weight balance on her fingers, Tony wonders how she makes even the most innocuous items seem deadly. Somehow he doesn't think Barrows would appreciate his eight year old learning how to throw a knife at boys from an assassin.

The wrath of one perpetually pissed team leader is more than enough.

"On second though, I think Gibbs'll probably need your help here…with the cold cases."

Grinning nervously, he watches her gaze drop to the file on her desk. While she flips through the pages, she clutches her pen like a weapon. The sweat pricks to his back and Tony loosens his tie, checking to see if there will be any witnesses to his demise.

When she shoots him a murderous stare, he decides that his junior agent is a much safer choice for an elementary school career day. As he pulls out his phone to call McGee, a paper ball hits Tony squarely in the head.

Glancing back to Ziva, he withers under her deadly smile. From the look on her face, she is probably pretending that it is something much sharper. Pressing his lips together, he collects his gear to head for the elevator.

With no potential witnesses, Tony figures that it is safer to wait in the garage.

Just as he arrives, the elevator doors ding to let out Special Agent Timothy McGee. Smiling brightly, Tim doesn't even disembark as Tony barrels into him, pushing them both into the car.

"Morning, Probster. We just got called out for a special assignment!"

_-oooooooo-ooooooooo-ooooooooo-_

**7:43am – Garage – NCIS Headquarters, Washington, DC –**

"So where are we going?" Tim asks again, voice bordering dangerously on a whine.

The prospect of a special assignment excited him as they rode the elevator down to the garage. Though now as his shoes scrape over the asphalt on his way to the Charger, the thought of an unknown mission turns his stomach. Since Tony still won't answer any of his questions, Tim grows skeptical about the importance of their post.

Spinning around, his senior agent shoots him a sly smile. "It's a secret, McBond."

Letting out an annoyed exhale, Tim glances back at the elevator. He debates about returning to the bullpen to review his pile of cold cases. Even though he abhors the thought of leafing through unsolved murders for the next ten hours, it might be better than tagging along. His gaze jumps to Tony's back, watching that smug swagger that leads the way to their vehicle.

He doesn't know what to do. While leaving an important job before it even begins could damage his fledgling career, he knows that an inane mission to nowhere could have the same consequences. Right now, a reprimand in his permanent file seems likely, regardless of the option he chooses.

Tim bites his lip.

Stopping dead, he slings his backpack on his shoulders. When Tim crosses his arms, Tony casts a cock-eyed glance over his shoulder, not breaking his stride.

"Come on, Tony, who gave us the assignment?"

"Order came straight from the director herself. But if you'd rather stay here and work cold cases with Ziva, be my guest."

"The director?" Tim repeats, awestruck.

Shaking his head to clear it, he jogs to catch up with Tony. When they fall in step for the rest of the walk, he wonders how he earned the privilege of a special assignment that came straight from the head of the agency.

When they hit the car, Tony suddenly realizes that he didn't fill out the requisition forms. After a few muttered curses, he heads to the security desk, leaving Tim to lean against the cool metal of the car.

While he watches a bit of water drop from the concrete wall, his overactive brain churns at the mission's possibilities. Maybe they were chosen to work a protective detail for an important member of the Navy. When he wonders why Ziva wasn't selected instead, he shakes his head, choosing a different option. Perhaps they could have been chosen for a reconnaissance mission for a terrorist cell. Or they are being sent to interview a particularly difficult suspect.

Since he was hand-picked by the director, he assumes that the job has to involve computers.

Whatever it is, he hopes that it doesn't involve a boat. He stares at a drop of water, feeling the bile rise in his throat. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he wills the unfounded nausea to pass.

"C'mon, Probie, let's move! We're gonna be late!" Tony calls from halfway down the garage, motioning to a different Charger in the sea of identical cars.

Not needing to be told twice, Tim jogs to the car and settles into the passenger seat. He clicks his seatbelt, grinning excitedly at Tony.

"So where are we going?"

Tony adjusts the mirrors, pausing to study his reflection.

"Roosevelt Elementary School," he answers, nonchalantly.

The smile melts away from Tim's face.

"What kind of assignment can there be at an elementary school?" There is a pregnant pause as the car starts and the door locks engage. "Tony?"

"Career day for Steve Barrow's daughter."

Just as Tim unhooks his seatbelt, Tony shifts the car in reverse.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer : Still own nothing. Just having fun. **

**Author's Note :** _Thanks to everyone who's read, followed, favorited and reviewed so far. I'm amazed by the response that the first chapter received. You all have my deepest thanks for the support. _**  
**

_Adapted a few laws in this chapter to make the story flow better. Sincerest apologies if that bothers anyone. _

_Hope you enjoy this one. They'll get into a bit of trouble in the next chapter. _

_-oooooooo-ooooooooo-ooooooooo-_

**9:12am - Roosevelt Elementary School – Forest Hills, Washington, DC -**

Cutting the steering wheel to the left, Tony maneuvers the Charger into a visitor's spot just out front of a small, public school. Too busy looking at the turkey shaped decorations plastered in one of the classroom windows, he nearly taps the Mercedes in the adjacent space.

"Watch it, Tony," Tim warns, smacking his hand against the dashboard.

With an annoyed exhale, he straightens out the car. Still not taking his sight off the building, Tony marvels at the sheer blandness of its appearance. With its brick exterior and red steel roof, it closely resembles the school that he attended right before his mother's death. He presses his lips together, desperate to recall something from that time period in his life. All he can remember are the years that he spent in boarding school and those awkward family holidays over Christmas when he and his father tried to ignore his mother's absence…and each other.

He shakes his head, wishing those were the years that he'd forgotten instead.

Chasing the memories away, he glances to Tim, who's staring wide-eyed at the school.

"Please tell me you're kidding."

"Not this time, Probster. Izzy Barrows' career day really is the assignment. We're going to tell her class how much fun it is to be an agent. Don't you think this'll be better than cold cases?"

When Tony grins broadly, Tim seems to consider the suggestion for a moment. Suddenly, the color drains from his face and he clutches his backpack tighter to his chest.

"Does Gibbs know we're here?" he asks, voice barely a whisper.

"Probably?" Tony chuckles at Tim's hopeless moan as he buries his face in his bag.

Checking his phone for missed calls, he's surprised when he finds nothing from his boss or Kendal. While he's certain that Gibbs will kick ass later, Tony just couldn't miss the opportunity to impress another team leader and the director. Hopefully, they'll remember this little favor in the future…when he's ready for his own team.

Eyes squeezed shut, Tim exhales raggedly. "We're so dead."

When the junior agent tries to covertly slide his cell out of his jacket, Tony snatches it away and stuffs it into the interior pocket of his suit coat. He frowns at the look of betrayal on Tim's face.

"Come on, McGee, the director asked us to fill in for Barrows since his team got sent to Camp Lejeune on that serial killer case. If Gibbs hasn't called us yet, he probably knows. We're already here so we might as well make the best of it." He pauses dramatically. "Those kids are counting on us! So let's go!"

Looking over his sunglasses, he grins at his subordinate's pale face. Pressing his lips into a tight line, Tim breaks the gaze first to stare morosely at the school building. When his hand reaches for the handle, Tony hops out of the Charger. He takes several strides before he realizes Tim hasn't followed. Turning back to the car, he notices that the younger man hasn't even unbuckled his seatbelt.

Running his hand down his face, Tony heads to the passenger door and yanks it open.

"McGee, you can't sit in a car out front of a school. People get arrested for that. Do you think Gibbs'll come bail you out after you went AWOL?"

Just when Tony thinks Tim can't turn any whiter, the last traces of color drain from his cheeks. He blinks a few times as though to try to wake from a dream before he scrambles onto the sidewalk. Drawing himself to his full height, Tim narrows his eyes at Tony as he slings his backpack over his shoulders.

They're both silent for a long beat until Tim stalks off towards the entrance, leaving Tony behind.

_-oooooooo-ooooooooo-ooooooooo-_

**9:28am – Front Office - Roosevelt Elementary, Forest Hills, Washington, DC –**

After several minutes of trying to explain his and Tim's predicament to the black call box, Tony finally gives up and flashes his badge at the small camera next to it. There's a loud gasp that echoes from the tinny speaker and the front door clicks, allowing them to enter. They head through a pair of glass doors into a poorly lit foyer with a glass-walled office on their left. Straight ahead, a hallway lined with cinderblocks invites them deeper into the school.

Tony debates about which direction they should take.

When Tim points to a small sign on the wall that reads 'all visitors must report to the office," Tony ignores his urge to congratulate the MIT grad's reading prowess. Instead, he follows his subordinate towards the office.

Just as they hit the doorway, a bespectacled woman with wild grey hair leaps out from behind a wood-laminate desk. Wringing her hands, she rushes over, mouth open wide.

"So you're federal agents? What is it? What's happened?"

Tony doesn't get a chance to explain before a portly woman in a tight pink suit appears in the small hallway that leads to a principal's office.

"There are federal agents here?! Debbie, why didn't you call me about this?"

"I'm sorry, Miss Patterson, but they just got here…"

When Tony tries to speak again, both women explode at the same time, asking each other what occurred and who should've been notified. He and Tim share an amused smirk until the cacophony causes his head pound. With a loud whistle, he pulls out his badge. The sight of it makes the women freeze.

"Why don't we all just calm down?" Tony gives an easy smile as he gestures to himself and Tim. "NCIS Special Agents Tony DiNozzo and Tim McGee. We're here in place of Steve Barrows for Career Day."

The woman in the suit scrutinizes the badge while Debbie nods. "Oh yeah, that suddenly reminds me that Mr. Barrows called this morning to say that he couldn't be here and there would be two other agents taking his place. What happened to him?"

"He got called away on a big case."

Glancing up from the badge, the pink suited woman contorts her face into a perky smile when she finally looks at Tony. Shaking his hand, she holds it for just a little too long before moving to Tim's.

"Nice to meet you both. Pamela Patterson, principal of Roosevelt Elementary and - " she points to the aging woman by the desk " - that's Debbie Ross, our receptionist. How would you two like a tour of my school?"

When she winks at him, Tony shakes his head emphatically. "That's not necessary. Just point us in the direction of the class – "

"Actually, Mrs. Patterson, we'd love one," Tim interjects, ignoring Tony's death glare.

"It's _Miss_ Patterson," Pamela corrects with another wink.

Tim lets out a cough that sounds suspiciously like a laugh.

"Well, you know we don't want to trouble you – " Tony stares at the floor and straightens the lapel of his jacket " – just tell us where to go and we'll find it ourselves."

"Don't worry, Tony. I'd be more than happy to show you over to Ms. Hastings' class and give you a tour. But please, call me Pamela."

Her third, and even more obvious, wink makes his polite smile fade. When Debbie rolls her eyes and ducks back behind the desk, Tony wonders whether Pamela routinely hits on male visitors to the school. Cheeks flushed, Tim lets out another strangled "cough." She starts towards the foyer, but freezes by a cardboard cutout of the school's mouse mascot, and Tony nearly runs her over.

"Everything okay?" he asks.

"Are either of you carrying a gun?"

Tony and Tim share a perplexed look. "Yeah, why?"

Shaking her head, she motions for them to follow her back into the room and through a small hallway that leads to her personal office. Even though it's been years since his last visit to the principal, Tony remembers the feeling quite well. His palms begin to sweat.

Pamela pushes the door open to lead them into an area that looks like a bomb exploded inside. There are piles of file folders strewn across the floor and the desk with boxes of rolled-up posters in the corner. Inhaling deeply, Tony wonders why the place smells like onions. Heading behind her desk, she slides several boxes out from underneath it to reveal a large metal gun chest.

Opening it, she points to the empty interior. "Sorry, boys, but it's part of the regulations for the Gun-Free School Zone. I need to lock up those weapons while you're here."

Looking over at Tim, Tony shakes his head. "I'm not sure we can do that, Pamela."

"I didn't make the law." She sighs. "You can keep them if you're here for official business…but I'm not quite sure that Ms. Hastings' Career Day counts."

He's about to protest again when Tim places his Sig, holster and all, inside. "Come on, Tony, think of the children."

There's a long pause until Tony grimaces and puts his gun on top of Tim's.

After closing the chest with a resounding thud and locking their weapons away, Pamela waves them back into the hallway. The click of her sensible heels leads them back through the office and into the school while she explains her involvement in the school's resurgence as a leader in elementary education. When Tim's face turns crimson as he stifles his laughter, Tony levels a quick smack to the back of the junior agent's head.

It only makes Tim more flushed.

Pamela takes the pair deeper into the school, past a wall full of crudely drawn masterpieces. From the way she talks about Caden, the school's city-renowned painting virtuoso, Tony figures the kid's work should be museum worthy. But when she pauses suddenly to emphatically point out a piece of paper decorated with hot-pink blob with stick legs and a neon orange smile, he barely bites back a laugh. Based on the current pieces, it'll probably take Caden a few more years before he actually earns his "premier painter of the ages" title.

Covering his mouth with his hand, Tim takes a second to try to compose himself. When Pamela begins to liken the school's football team to the Redskins, he barely manages to swallow the laugh that shakes his body. Not giving the younger man a chance to dissolve into a fit of giggles, Tony leans over.

"So do you think this Ms. Hastings'll be hot?"

Tim shrugs as he points to the Pamela's bright pink back. "Does it matter? You've already got a date."

When she stops by the nurse's office, she turns back to Tim's crimson face. "Are you feeling, Agent McGee? Perhaps you'd like to see a member of our health team?"

'Coughing' violently, Tim shakes his head.

"Something's been going around the office. I just hope he isn't contagious," Tony says, eying the junior agent seriously.

Paling slightly, Pamela slides a step away from him (and closer to Tony) as she begins to explain the 'state of the art' health facility that the school's nurse provides. While she drones on during her tour, Tony amuses himself by making faces at Tim for the rest of the way. By the time they reach Ms. Hastings' classroom, he's quite impressed that the junior agent hasn't burst out laughing yet.

As Pamela glances through the classroom door's glass at the teacher, Tim eases himself against the cinderblock wall so he can breathe slowly. Tony finally notices the unnatural shade of crimson plastered on the younger man's cheeks.

He didn't know someone could turn that color while they're still alive.

_-oooooooo-ooooooooo-ooooooooo-_

**9:59 – Just Outside Ms. Hastings' Classroom - - Roosevelt Elementary, Forest Hills, Washington, DC –**

While Pamela stares intently into the classroom through the small glass window, Tony studies the artwork with round, poorly-drawn shapes and bright colors that lines the hallway. Just above the shaky portraits hang a large class picture and the words 'What We're Thankful For…' carefully cut out of construction paper. Most of the shapeless blobs seem to revolve around families, pets and food while the one closest to the door proudly portrays a lime green Tyrannosaurus Rex holding an ice cream cone.

Raising his eyebrows, he's amazed to find Izzy Barrows' name at the bottom.

When Pamela knocks on the door a second time, Pamela shoots him an apologetic smile.

"I'm not sure what Caroline's doing, she's usually good about answering the door."

Tony exhales awkwardly, glancing back down the hallway. Obviously forgotten, Tim still leans against the wall, the disconcerting shade of scarlet slowly dissipating from his face.

He gestures to the pictures. "So was this your idea, Pamela?"

"Actually, it was all Caroline's. It's incredible to see what children can be thankful for." She rolls her eyes, pointing to Izzy's masterpiece. "Either of you have children?"

"Not yet," Tim replies, smiling hopefully.

"Um -" Tony shudders at the thought – "no."

Nodding, Pamela readies to knock again. Before she can, a beautiful blonde with a broad smile slides into the hallway. She runs her hand over her ponytail, oblivious to the male agents grinning at her arrival. With her killer curves and porcelain skin, the third grade teacher's an absolute knockout. Looking over at Tim, Tony shakes his head.

_I saw her first, _he mouths and the younger man narrows his eyes.

"Hi there, Miss Patterson. I'm so sorry, but I didn't see you guys out here," she murmurs.

"It's okay, Caroline. I'm just bringing some more participants for your career day. Special Agents DiNozzo and McGee." Pamela gestures to the agents. "Izzy's dad couldn't make it, so these gentlemen are filling in for him. How's the day going so far?"

Clapping her hands, Caroline checks on her class through the door. "Great, Annie Sutherland's mom, the surgeon's almost finished. Then we have Izzy Barrows' dad, well…Agents McGee and DiNozzo now. And I think Jacob Mathers' dad's supposed to stop by soon. Isn't he _that cop_?"

When Pamela shudders suddenly, Tony turns his attention to her. "Everything okay?"

Unease creeps onto her portly face as she shifts her weight. "Jerry Mathers, Jacob's dad, has been a bit of - " she chooses her word carefully " - a problem lately. He used to be a great guy until about a year ago. It was slow at first…saying inappropriate things when he came to pick up Jacob from school. But a few months ago, Jacob came to school covered in bruises. He and Danielle got divorced shortly after. Ever since he lost custody, Jerry's been calling the school, trying to visit. I'm surprised Danielle would give him permission for him to come today."

"Maybe she knows it's important to Jacob for his dad to be here?" Caroline shrugs as Tim slides a step closer. "Ready to go inside?"

"Absolutely, Miss Hastings," Tony says, flashing the teacher his playboy grin.

With a nervous laugh, she extends her hand. "Caroline."

"Tony." While he shakes it, he notices the junior agent watching them forlornly. "And don't forget about Tim over there or else I'll never hear the end of it."

"Nice to meet you both. Well, I think we should get inside before the kids go amok. Certainly you understand, Miss Patterson?"

"Of course, Caroline. It was great to meet you, Agent McGee and – " Pamela looks at Tony as seductively as she can manage " – _Special Agent DiNozzo." _Unable to stop himself, Tony cringes visibly while Tim lets out a snort. Seemingly unfazed, she winks at him again before turning on her sensible heels and heading back to the office.

Once she's finally gone, Caroline giggles quietly. "Don't worry about her, Tony. She hits on almost every guy that comes through the school. Though we better get inside before Dr. Sorenson bores the kids to death…"

Frowning deeply, Tony suddenly feels sorry for every male visitor to Roosevelt Elementary that's been sexually harassed before him. While Caroline yanks open the door to her classroom, Tim grips Tony's arm and holds him back.

"What are we going to tell those kids when we get in there?"

"Who knows, Probie, but I'm sure we'll think of something."


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer : Still own nothing. Just having fun. **

**Author's Note :** _Thanks to everyone who's read, followed, favorited and reviewed so far. I'm amazed by the support for this story.  
_

_My sincerest apologies for long delays between updates. Once I'm done with the Big Bang on LJ, I should be quicker with this one. _

_Shorter chapter today. _

_-oooooooo-ooooooooo-ooooooooo-_

**10:17am - Hastings' Classroom, Roosevelt Elementary School, Washington DC -**

Standing the side of the classroom, Tony watches Dr. Sorenson flip to yet another slide in her presentation about the exciting world of foot surgery. When an image of a foot appears, she uses a laser pointer to highlight the area where several important nerves connect to the toes.

Running his hand over his face, Tony looks out at the nearly comatose class. While latex gloves and print outs cover their desks, most of the children are staring out the window. He figures the girl in the front row, head buried in her heads, must be Sorenson's incredibly embarrassed daughter, Annie.

While the doctor launches into a tangent about hand washing, Tim crosses his arms and stifles a yawn. Tony leans over to poke him in the shoulder.

"Hey, Probie," he whispers.

Tim perks up, glancing away from the picture of a bacterium. "Yeah?"

"You think any of these kids will want to be cops because of what we tell them?" Looking out over the bored faces, Tony's fairly confident that none of them will become surgeons.

"Maybe. Who knows?" With a shrug, Tim looks out at the classroom. "Did you even know you wanted to be a cop when you were a kid?"

"Actually, I was about this age when I decided that I wanted to be one," Tony replies, remembering the kind officer who waited with him after he found his mother's body. Before Tim can ask why, he counters : "What about you?"

"Nah, I actually wanted to join the Navy when I was little. It wasn't until college that I figured out I was living my dad's dream and not mine. I decided to get into – "

Tim's story ends with a loud _shush _from Caroline. When she places her finger to her lips, he blushes fiercely and mouths, _Sorry. _ She smiles politely back.

After what feels like an eternity, Sorenson finally wraps up her monologue about the different types of shoes. When she takes questions, not a single hand goes up. Seemingly deflated, she retreats back to the chairs where the parents gather. Scrambling out from behind her desk, Caroline forces an excited grin for her class.

"Thanks, Dr. Sorenson. Okay guys, let's give Annie's mom a round of applause." While the children clap half-heartedly, Annie drops her head to her desk. "Alright class, now Izzy's dad couldn't be here today. But he sent some of his friends to talk about what it's like to be a federal agent. That sounds exciting, doesn't it? Why don't you guys give Tim and Tony a big welcome."

With Caroline and the class finally clapping with gusto, Tim and Tony both head to the front of the room. From where he stands, Tony's surprised by how engaged most of the children suddenly seem. No longer sleeping or drawing pictures on their desks, all thirty eyes are riveted on them…on him.

Tony feels his gut clench as he loosens his tie.

When he glances at Tim's sweat-slicked face, he realizes that he'll be the one doing the talking.

"Hey guys. I'm Agent Tony and this is Agent Tim –" the junior agent offers a meek wave " – and we catch bad guys for a living."

When he waits for Tim to say something, the silence stretches so he takes a question from a boy in the second row.

"Do you get to carry a gun?"

Laughing nervously, Tony checks with Caroline as Tim stammers, "Y-y-y-y-yeah."

The entire class seems to hold their breath while the boy nods. "Cool…do you shoot people?"

Caroline's eyes widen as Tim makes a face. "Uh, well, you see – " he falters, " - not usually."

"Can we see your gun?"

There's the scraping of desks as the kids in the back stand for a better view. Not giving Tim a chance to respond, Tony answers : "Miss Patterson took them."

Crestfallen, the boy slumps back into his seat. "Yeah, she takes all my cool stuff too."

"So Agent Tony - " Caroline claps her hands "- what's your favorite thing about catching bad guys?"

Tempted to answer shooting them, Tony makes a deliberate show of thinking about his reply. Just as he starts to say putting them in prison, a paper plane hits him squarely in the forehead.

At the back of the class, a blonde girl pumps her fist.

"Izzy! That wasn't very nice! Say you're sorry to Agent Tony," Caroline chastises.

"I'm sorry, Agent Tony," Izzy Barrows mutters, hanging her head.

Surprised by the amount of insincerity an eight year old can muster, Tony shares a wide-eyed glance with Tim. When Caroline makes a notation in her book, Izzy sticks her tongue out at Tony, then flicks a spitball at the boy next to her.

Deciding to ignore her, Tony tries to answer Caroline's question when a high-pitched sound screeches over the PA system. Jamming his fingers into his ears, Tony feels the noise cut through him for several long seconds. When it finally stops, he meets Tim's questioning glance. Just as Caroline heads for the school telephone, Pamela's voice booms over the loudspeaker.

_"Sorry about the interruption, Miss Hastings. We're running a test of the system. Hope your class is having fun leaning about the different careers." _

When Tim looks over a cocked eyebrow, Tony instantly knows they're sharing the same thought.

"I'm going to go check on Miss Patterson," Tony says.

"Why don't I go?" Tim gestures to the class as he loosens his tie. "I know how much you'd rather stay and tell the class about catching bad guys."

Tony nods, truly appreciating the younger man's offer. "Call me if anything looks weird."

"On it." Tim gives a mock salute as he slips out the door.

"So Agent Tony, what's the best thing about catching bad guys?" Caroline repeats.

"Well, Miss Hastings, the best thing about – " When he turns back to find thirty sets of eyes still staring at him intently, Tony's mouth gapes.

For once in his life, words fail him.

_-oooooooo-ooooooooo-ooooooooo-_

**10:31am - Hallway outside Hastings' Class -**

Sighing with relief, Tim unbuttons his sports coat as he heads back towards the front office. Thankful to be out of the classroom, he still wonders what Tony's telling the kids about the highlights of law enforcement. Scrubbing his hand over his face, he wishes that he could've thought of something useful to say. Before they went to the front of the classroom, he'd had so many ideas. But the moment when all attention focused on him, his mind went blank, leaving him stuttering like an idiot.

He grimaces when he remembers that he actually told the kids that they shot people.

Tracing the circuitous hallways, he lets the steady thud of his feet on the thin carpet chase away the embarrassment. By the time he hits the gym, Tim realizes the Pamela Patterson scenic tour of Roosevelt Elementary has left him hopelessly lost. He continues onward until he hits an exit that leads to a parking lot.

Grousing to himself about the layout, he doubles-back and takes a left at random. While he moves past the classrooms, he peers through a glass door to see the excited face of a boy, desperately waving his hand to answer a question.

Tim remembers how it felt to know the answer to a question and fear that he might blurt it out before the teacher called on him. He wonders whether his days were as happy as he's always told himself they were. While his natural intelligence and an innate desire to please authority made him the perfect student, it also made him a walking target for every bully in every school he attended. Well, except MIT.

When the boy starts talking, Tim smiles longingly.

Despite all his experiences, school was the only place he ever felt good enough.

Turning away, he shakes his head. Tim inhales deeply, wondering why he smells uncooked pasta until he notices the macaroni collages on the wall. He laughs quietly, then continues on his way.

When he passes the cafeteria again, he scowls.

"Why the heck don't they put maps up?"

When he actually notices a sign for the office that points in the direction he just came from, his scowl deepens. With an agitated exhale, Tim double-backs past the macaroni masterpieces. On his way, he admires the artwork from one of the kindergarten class. He muses about whether they really do see people as brightly colored, amorphous blobs.

Heading towards the front of the building, he passes several more class displays of 'What We're Thankful For…' that probably were probably stolen from Caroline. Izzy Barrows' choice is still the most original…although, the little boy who's thankful for bacon is a close second.

When he manages to locate the office, Tim's surprised not to see Debbie perched behind her faux-wood desk. As he walks through the doorway, the uneasy tendrils of alarm worms their way into his gut.

"Pamela?" He peers around the desk. "Debbie? Anybody in here?"

No response.

Tim swallows hard, reaching into his pocket for his phone. When he remembers that Tony confiscated it earlier, he mutters several words unfit for young ears. He readies to turn back.

A loud noise from Pamela's office stops him.

Tim wavers, debating about going back for Tony, when he hears the noise again. Sliding into the hallway, he carefully picks his way to the principal's lair. He freezes just outside, leaning against the doorjamb as he listens to someone crying.

His hand reaches for his Sig, but there's nothing on his hip.

Realizing that his weapon's inside the room, he swears under his breath. With no gun and no phone, Tim needs Tony here…now. Just as he slinks away, a solid object digs into his spine.

"It's about time one of you joined us," a gravelly male voice growls.


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer : Everything remains property of their creators. **

**Author's Note :**_My sincerest thanks for everyone who's read, followed and favorited this story so far. And as always, reviewers you have no idea how much I appreciate your kind words. I'm truly amazed by the support that I've received.  
_

_I'm not sure when the next update for this story will be up...so please bear with me. _

_Hope you enjoy this chapter. _

_-oooooooo-ooooooooo-ooooooooo-_

**10:25am – Miss Hastings' Classroom – Concurrent with Tim McGee Meeting Jerry Mathers –**

"So Agent Tony, what's the best thing about catching bad guys?" Caroline asks again, desperation creeping into her voice.

Tony laughs nervously as loosens his tie. With everyone's gaze on him, the room grows so warm that it's almost uncomfortable. Shifting his weight, he watches the children begin to lose interest in him. While some of them rifle through their desks and others begin to doodle on their hands, one of the parents takes a phone call. Dr. Sorenson's muffled voice discusses an emergency involving a toenail.

As he presses his lips together, Tony's brain searches for a suitable response for Caroline's question. No matter how hard he tries, he continues to return to his original reply of 'shooting them.' Even though it's entirely inappropriate for the classroom and already earned Tim a trip to the principal's office, he must just say it so Caroline will stop asking him.

Just before he blurts out his response, a thin girl in the second row raises her hand.

Caroline lets out a loud puff of relief. "Yes, Fiona?"

"Bones is gone," she wails, cornrows bouncing as her eyes grow wide.

When the tears start, Tony takes a full step backwards. He raises his eyebrows at the way Caroline rushes to the distraught child's side. After wavering for several long moments, he joins her by Fiona's desk. Caroline rubs the little girl's back, quietly murmuring kind words. The rest of the students lean over in their chairs to watch Fiona sob hysterically into her hands.

"My mommy gave Bones to me." She coughs. "My mommy…"

Not knowing what to do, Tony can only watch the little girl cry.

"Her mom was sent to Afghanistan last year." Before he has a chance to ask, she glances up and shakes her head. The look in her eyes tells him that Fiona's mother didn't come home alive. "She's been carrying that stuffed dog everywhere since then..."

He nods solemnly, surveying the faces of children and parents that have crowded around them.

Something niggles in his gut and he chalks it up to the fact that the guilty party's still here.

"So class – " Tony dramatically holds his arms out – "who wants to catch a bad guy?"

_-oooooooo-ooooooooo-ooooooooo-_

**10:26am – Just Outside Pamela Patterson's Office –**

Heart racing, Tim remains firmly rooted to the ground. His mind turns, desperate to figure out his next move. Fight or flight…they are his only options, but the wall he faces quickly eliminates running. He swallows hard, flexing his sweaty hands into fists.

Fight…that's what it'll have to be.

When the object burrows deeper into his back, he pulls a shaky inhale.

He hasn't breathed since he hit the office.

"I've got a gun on you. So nothing stupid, got it?"

Nodding swiftly, Tim raises his hands. "Look, Officer Mathers, you don't have to do this."

"How did you – " Mathers lets out an actual growl. "G-damn, Miss Patterson." He jams the weapon deeper into Tim's spine. "Where the hell's your partner?"

"Back in Miss Hastings' classroom, finishing up career day."

"Call him and get him down here, now!"

"I can't…I don't have my phone."

"What?" There's a lengthy pause. "You know it's regulation that you carry one, right?"

Tim pushes a breath through his teeth. "Yeah, I do."

With an agitated exhale, Mathers shifts his weight to glance back into Pamela's office. Just as the pressure eases from his back slightly, Tim drives his elbow into the cop's gut. He turns to throw a left hook, but Mathers catches his wrist. When Tim slams face-first into the wall, he sees stars swarm his vision right before his head pounds. The gun comes to rest on his jaw and Mathers leans in, close enough for Tim to feel the hot breath on his cheek.

"Now _that _was stupid."

Tim closes his eyes, barely managing to suppress the panic that rises in his throat. With the gun firmly planted on his neck, he lets Mathers frisk him, quickly and efficiently. His badge vanishes from his coat pocket, his wallet from his pants, and finally, the tiny knife he carries on his right ankle. Mathers even finds some loose change that Tim didn't know was in his sports coat.

Once there's nothing left, Mathers grabs Tim's collar and hauls him off the wall. The gun barrel buried in his ribs forces Tim through the door into the principal's office. Inhaling deliberately, he catches the scent of sweat, paper…and fear.

Since he and Tony dropped their guns earlier, Pamela and Debbie have redecorated the workspace. The paper on the principal's desk are now strewn all over the floor. One of the filing cabinets lies on its side, front dented and contents spilling out. Even a lunch bag was added to the mess, the salami sandwich ground flat against the rough carpet.

Huddled in the corner by a small closet, Pamela and Debbie hold each other's hands. While tears stream down the principal's cheeks, Debbie definitely narrows her eyes at Mathers. Just in front of them stands a short brunette, holding a gun.

"That one of them?" she asks, her curls bouncing as she cocks her head.

"Yeah."

"Isn't there supposed to be two of them?"

"His partner's still with Jacob's class." Mathers shoves Tim towards the schoolworkers. "You, over there."

With a nod, Tim moves past the armed woman to take a place on the floor by Debbie. Sliding down the wall, he's surprised when he sees the cop for the first time. With his broad shoulders and muscular physique, Mathers resembles an action hero, more than a disgraced officer.

When Debbie grabs his hand, Tim glances over at her.

"What happened?" he whispers.

"Mr. Mathers showed up for career day and I – " her breath hitches "- wasn't thinking. I let him and his girlfriend, Rachel, in. Miss Patterson told them to leave and he refused. So she told him that you and Agent DiNozzo would escort them off the school grounds. Then I saw a gun and tried to call for help…I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault. You couldn't have – " Tim loses his voice when a gun points at him.

"Shut up," Mathers snaps.

Shrinking back against the wall, Tim draws his knees to his chest. While Pamela draws her hands to her face, Debbie wraps her arm around the principal's shoulders.

"What the hell do we do now, Jerry? We've only got one of the feds. How do we get the other one down here?" Rachel roars, crossing her arms.

"I don't know, honey. I hadn't really planned on them being here. We were just supposed to do our speech and sneak Jacob out when it was over." Mathers leans against the desk, surveying his hostages. "This was supposed to be easy."

Rolling her eyes, Rachel gestures to the group. "Does this look easy to you?"

"Of course it doesn't. But if you've got any ideas, I'm all ears, Rach."

A tense silence settles over the room, broken only by Pamela's quiet crying. When Rachel and Mathers start actively whispering, Tim strains his ears to catch their plans, but he can't make out anything. The way Mathers predatorily eyes his hostages sends a chill down Tim's spine. Debbie grips his hand tighter, almost begging for him to act.

Before he can stop himself, he asks, "Why don't you surrender?"

"What did you say?" Rachel turns to face the group.

Holding his hands out, Tim scrambles onto his shaking legs. When two guns instantly point in his direction, he forces the bravest smile he can manage.

"If you give yourselves up, we can all walk away from this."

"Sit down and shut up," Mathers warns, his voice dangerous.

"You wanted easy, right?" Tim bites his lower lip until he finds the courage to continue. "Surrendering now is the easiest way out. No one has to get hurt."

Mathers genuinely laughs. "Nice try. But since I'm already headed for prison, I'm not leaving here without seeing my son. So sit down and shut the hell up…I won't ask you again."

When he loads a bullet into his gun's chamber, Tim flinches. Cheeks flushing, he drops back to the floor. He swallows hard, certain that he just blew their best chance to get out safely. If Tony were here, he would've been able to talk them out of the situation and probably scored a date with Mathers' girlfriend. When a tear finds its way down his face, Tim hangs his head and listens to Pamela's sobs.

Debbie leans over to squeezes his forearm. He continues to stare at his knees until her grip begins to hurt. Pressing his lips together, he meets her resolute stare. She jerks her head at their captors, who are now deep in conversation.

When Mathers says something to Rachel, she shakes her head.

"We have to do something," Debbie hisses.

"Not now, they're too unpredictable," Tim cautions.

"But it's the only way that we're going to get out of here."

Pamela looks up, red-rimmed eyes darting around the room. "Debbie, you can't – "

"It's now or never," Debbie interrupts, grip tightening on Tim's arm.

"We need to wait until one of them leaves," he recommends.

When Debbie launches her aging body off the floor, Tim has no choice but to follow.

_-oooooooo-ooooooooo-ooooooooo-_

**10:35am – Miss Hastings' Classroom –**

"Alright class, why don't we let Agent Tony show us how to catch a bad guy?" Caroline asks, smiling at group clustered around Fiona's desk.

The excited discussion dwindles into an obedient "Yes, Miss Hastings."

Glancing around, Tony finds children everywhere…standing on chairs…by his side…next to Caroline...peering over each others' shoulders...one boy's even being held up by his father. All this so they can catch the action of his interview. He almost can't wait to see their faces when he starts theinterrogation.

When someone's hot breathe hits Tony's neck, his skin crawls. He cringes and as if on cue, Caroline snaps her fingers. A dejected boy (the one who pestered Tim about shooting people) hops off the desk behind Tony.

"Enough with the gymnastics, Jacob. The next time you climb on the furniture, I'm sending you to the principal's office, got it?" Caroline warns.

"Yes, Miss Hastings. I won't do it again, promise," Jacob says, elbowing his way to the front of the group. "So Agent Tony, what happens first?"

"Well, it all starts when someone reports a crime." Tony gestures to Fiona's hunched form. "If you ever see someone doing something bad, make sure you call 911 right away. Then me and Agent Tim will come and help. But since we already have a crime, we need to ask the victim questions."

"Victim?" Caroline asks, eying the children.

"Oh yeah, - " Tony chuckles "- we talk to the person who had something bad happen. Like Fiona who had something stolen…so I ask her what happened."

Fiona's tear-stained face rises from her hands. "My doggie was in my desk and now, he isn't. He's gone! Someone took him!"

"We'll find him before lunchtime," Tony promises, putting his hand on the little girl's shoulder. "But I need you to tell me about the last time you saw him."

"Bones comes to school with me and sleeps in my desk. Just like Mommy said – " Fiona's lower lip juts out, "- he isn't allowed to help with my work."

Tony doesn't give her a chance to dissolve into tears again. "Did you leave your desk this morning?"

"Yeah, I had to go to the potty."

When he raises his eyebrows at her, Caroline nods. "We took a restroom break right before Dr. Sorenson started her lecture."

"What time?"

"About nine," she offers.

"Alright guys, it looks like we have a dognapping on our hands!" He grins at the quiet gasp that goes through the classroom. "Let's review what we know…Bones came to school with Fiona this morning. He went to sleep in her desk when class started and the only time she left him alone was at nine to go to the bathroom. How long was their break?"

"They had ten minutes."

"Now, this is what we call the 'window of opportunity.'" When Caroline clucks her tongue, Tony runs his hand through his hair. "That's the time that the bad guy had to dognap Bones. Since we know what happened, who wants to look at the scene of the crime?"

"Me!" Jacob yells, waving his arm in the air.

Grinning broadly, Tony lifts up the top of Fiona's desk to expose its immaculate interior. With her crayons organized based by the prismatic spectrum and her journals neatly stacked, the little girl is a pint-sized neat freak. When he notices the perfectly square scrap paper, he wonders how old she'll be when she finally gets diagnosed with OCD.

On the left of the desk, he finds a camo bandana lying flat with a small green pillow.

"That's where Bones sleeps," Fiona announces, pointing to the makeshift bed.

The only thing out of place is a tiny wad of paper, nestled in the fold of the fabric. Tony would recognize a spitball anywhere. Pulling an evidence bag out of his pocket, he slides it inside. For a brief second, he debates about spending it to Abby for analysis, but that might be overkill for this mystery.

"What did you find, Agent Tony?" Caroline asks, her eyes wide.

"Evidence." He holds the bag up. "Anybody know what that is?"

"It's something," Izzy answers, suddenly appearing by Tony's arm, "that a criminal leaves behind to…"

Her voice trails off when she notices the spitball. Hanging her head, she heads back to her seat. Just as Tony readies to follow her, Jacob jumps in front of him.

"That's going to lead us to the bad guy, isn't it? So we're going to find Fiona's doggie?"

"Yeah."

In the back of the room, Izzy slides into her chair and clasps her hands on her desk. When Tony's gut churns again, he raises his eyebrows at Caroline.

It seems they have a suspect.


End file.
